Forgotten
by meganarcissa
Summary: Denmark struggles with Norway losing his memory. Pairing: DenNor
1. Chapter 1

Lukas is losing his mind.

It isn't something he admits to anyone. He hardly admits it to himself. I know if he had his way I wouldn't know either, but you can't spend that much time with someone and not notice something like that. And besides, someone needs understand him.

It's mostly the hallucinations.

They aren't like normal ones, that happen along with real life. Instead, Lukas's consciousness freezes in time. And in a single moment, hours pass in his mind, in which anything can happen. He tells me they're indistinguishable from real life.

The clocks stop, he says. But I hardly pay attention to the clocks.

It's terrifying, when he comes back from one of the visions, and suddenly he recollects things I've done that I have no way of explaining. One night we were lying together, and it was nice and quiet, the way he likes it. And then without warning he screamed, and shoved me off of him, and yelled at me to stay away. To keep my hands off of him.

It took me two hours to convince him to unlock the bathroom door.

Other times it's not so bad. Sometimes I catch him smiling, or glancing over at me and smirking.

What? I ask.

Just something you said while I was gone, he says back.

That's how we refer to it. There's nothing wrong with him; he just goes away for a little while sometimes.

But his madness…it's cruel. Whatever time it gives him in his mind, it takes away from reality later. This leaves him with blank spots, hours and even days of time that he has no recollection of.

That's the worst of it, I think. We can handle a little distortion between reality and fantasy. But when the puzzle pieces of his consciousness just get lost, it's hard to bear. Like when I come up behind him and wrap my arms around him, and nibble on his ear, and he turns around and for once let's me kiss him, and he kisses me, and he doesn't fight me, and I just want to pick him up and twirl him around and do everything with him…and then his lips freeze. And he pulls away with a look of confusion and slight guilt. He doesn't remember anything that just happened.

At times like those I have to leave for a little bit.

But for the most part, I've tried not to be selfish. I mean, it must be harder for him than it is for me, right? After all, Lukas considers himself strong. Inviolable. Impenetrable. It's horrible for him to think that what's slowly breaking him isn't some external conflict but really his own mind, giving up on him. He feels so betrayed.

But sometimes, I wonder if I'm worse off. He doesn't remember all the reasons I have to cry at night.

It's getting worse too. The hallucinations are getting longer, and more realistic, he says. And the lapses in memory…There are whole days now he doesn't recall in the slightest. It's getting harder and harder to convince him that yes, I am real, and yes, he does love me back.

The best thing to keep my sanity would be to leave. But I love him too much. So all I can do is stay with him and try in vain to protect him from himself.

There'll come a day when he doesn't remember me at all.

I don't know what I'll do then.


	2. Chapter 2

It's sunny, the day it happens. Chilly, yes - it always is where we live. But the sunlight is refracting off the ice, brightening our bedroom.

Lukas is on the left side of our bed, with his back to me. His hair is splayed out slightly on his pillow

"Lukas," I say quietly. He's not a morning person, so I've long since learned that I need to be careful when waking him. But instead of telling me to please shut up, he doesn't react.

I cautiously reach out a hand to shake him awake. But when my fingers brush him, I recoil.

His skin is cold to the touch.

"Lukas?" I say again, alarmed. Again he doesn't respond, and for the first time I notice he's scarcely breathing.

Too shaken to touch him again, I untangle myself from our covers and walk over to his side of the bed.

He's lying there with his eyes open, unblinking and unfocused. They're staring blankly at the wall, and when I kneel in front of him, they give no sign of having seen me.

"Lukas?" I ask one more time, reaching out and shaking his shoulder gently. His dead eyes just stare past me.

I reach for the phone, my heartbeat accelerating.

"911? Something's wrong with my husband."

* * * * *

I hate hospitals. I always have - they're too clean and too plain, and there's never anything to do. But sitting in the waiting room, praying for news about Lukas, makes it worse than ever. I've been here for three hours and the doctors refuse to tell me anything. I'm inclined to start running up and down the hallways, just to relieve the restlessness that stems from the terror I'm feeling, wondering what's going to happen to him. But instead I have to pretend like I'm calm, and sane, and that it's all going to be ok.

Finally, FINALLY a man in white scrubs comes out to the waiting room and walks over to me. I stand to meet him, anxious. But his blank tells me nothing.

"We have Lukas stabilized," he says in a bland voice. I'm not quite sure what that means, but the doctor says it like it's good news, so I take it as such.

"Can I see him?" I say, because that's been the only thing on my mind for the past three hours.

Something shadows his face for a moment. "His condition isn't great. It might not be...pleasant."

"Like I care," I say. Then I remember that's he's the one who controls who happens to Lukas. "…please," I add, to sound a little less like an asshole.

He sighs. "All right, come on," he consents, and leads me down the hallway. I'm practically tripping over myself as he educates me as to Lukas's condition. "He's still unconscious," he informs me, "but we didn't want his eyes to dry out, so we closed them. So you won't have to…see that again."

Those eyes had been eerie. But I'd watch Lukas's eyes get gouged out if it meant he was going to be okay.

"At the moment we've got him on life support. He can't breathe on his own, and we fed him once through a tube. So far, we haven't been able to decide what's wrong with him, nor have we been able to find any obvious cause of his symptoms. None other than a certain…mental illness that we found in his files." He turns to me like he wants me to fill him in.

"Yeah. He has memory problems. Nobody knows why. There isn't a name for it," I return somewhat harshly. I'm growing impatient.

When he sees I'm not going to tell him more, he shrugs and turns to open a door to our right. "You'll only be allowed in here for a few moments. We don't want him contracting anything while he's in this state."

Yeah, yeah, whatever doc. Screw off.

I push through the door and there's Lukas, and I swear - if I was scared in the waiting room, seeing him here with all these wires and needles in him absolutely terrifies me. It's Lukas all right, but he looks like porcelain. Smooth and flawless, but also cold, fragile, and fake.

Ignoring my _It's just a nightmare_ reflex, I pull up a chair next to his bed and take his hand lightly in mine. He's still cold, but not so much anymore.

"Lukas," I murmur. That damn doctor's still in here, and I turn around and shoot him an annoyed glance. He takes the hint and leaves the room, mumbling something about getting a cup of coffee.

I turn back to Lukas. God, he looks so breakable. I'm worried if I touch him he'll shatter. Normally he seems so invincible to me…this vulnerable Lukas is hard to fathom.

"Sweetheart," I try again. In movies, you know, the love of your life can always hear you through their coma and they come back to life just to tell you how much they love you. That's how it always works.

But this isn't a goddamn movie. His hand doesn't even tighten around mine.

That's okay. As long as he's breathing, it's okay. It's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay. We're gonna be okay.

For the first time I feel tears beginning to well at the corners of my eyes. How uncharacteristic of me, I think as I brush them away roughly. I'm supposed to be the happy one.

"It's okay, Lukas," I whisper to him. Maybe I should be shouting, then maybe it could get in through his dreams somehow. But whispering is all I can muster.

I sit there for a few more minutes, thinking what the hell am I supposed to do to help him and how much longer can I stand seeing him like this and if there's anything I can do I'll do it, I swear, anything. The only sound in the room is the beeping of his EEG. I brush my fingers carefully over his pink lips and wonder when he'll be able to kiss me again.

The doctor returns with a mug and tells me, rather regretfully I think, that I need to give Lukas room to recover.

That night, I sleep in the waiting room.

* * * * *

Days go by until it's been weeks and I haven't been home, leaving the hospital only to go out and buy some food every once in a while. The doctors have been letting me spend a little less time in the waiting room and a little more time sitting next to Lukas in the chair that seems to belong to me now.

He hasn't changed though. He's still "nonresponsive," as they like to say. Seeing him hooked up to all those machines still freaks me out, as does the way I feel like if I'm not gentle enough with him he'll crack in half. You'd think I'd get used to it, but I can't seem to get over knowing that if we take that tube from his nose he could be lost forever.

One morning I'm taking a short break from that sterile room and walking down the streets of the city. The weather's growing even colder, and in trying to get my mind off Lukas I blow out little puffs of breath and watch them drift off into the brisk air.

I grab something from the nearest café. The people there know me by now, after I've come in about every other day for the past three weeks. When they see me walking in, they nod to me with small smiles and begin on what they know I'll be ordering before I walk up to the counter. This is thoughtful, but it gives me less time to escape the cramped corridors of the hospital. I still hate it there - the sterility, the depressing fog that seems to follow everyone around there. So I'm conflicted between wanting to get back to my Lukas and wanting to get away from that hellhole.

With a quick smile and a thank you I take my (thankfully warm) coffee with me and walk back, slowly, feet scraping against the concrete. The brisk oxygen stings at my face, but it actually feels kind of relaxing. I have the urge to take Lukas on a walk. I vow to, as soon as he gets better.

He's going to get better.

I get back to the hospital, and take the elevator up to the third floor. This time in the elevator is a young, African nurse with intricate cornrows in her hair. She nods curtly at me.

But something's wrong when I step out of the sliding bronze doors. I'm not sure what, but something's wrong, something's really wrong. Faster than usual I rush down the hallway to Lukas's room. The door is ajar, oddly, and there are nurses and doctors hustling in and out with heavy looking machinery.

"What's happening?" I say to one of them, but my voice goes unnoticed among all the ruckus. I try to force my way into the room, but one of the doctors shoots me a flustered look and tells me to stay out of the way.

I back up a bit, but try again. "Hey," I say with a bit more authority. In my mind at least. This doctor at least looks at me but then continues on what she's doing without acknowledging me otherwise.

Frustrated, I stomp my foot on the ground. "That is my husband and I _demand_ to know what the hell is going on."

Finally a man - the same one who was there the first day Lukas was admitted - turns to me. "How long have you been gone?"

I feel my eyebrows arch confusedly. "Uh, like forty-five minutes, an hour. What's happening?"

The doctor gives me a nervous look.

"About half an hour ago, Lukas's heart stopped."


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up.

That's it. One moment there is nothing, and then the next I'm awake. That's it.

There's a dull throbbing in my head. No, not dull. The longer I remain in existence the more prominent it becomes. I feel my eyes clenching shut against the ache.

My eyes. I don't want to, but I open them.

In an instant my senses are flooded with images. The pounding in my skull quickens, and I shut my eyes immediately against the pain. Ah. The darkness is nice and minimal, and for a few minutes I rest.

But then I'm curious. I take a cautious sniff to the air. Alcohol, I decide. The medical kind.

How do I know that?

Ever so slowly this time I pry my eyes open once more. They take a moment to focus (I have the feeling they haven't been open for a while) but when they do I find that I have a pretty clear view of the room I'm in. It's very...white. I appear to be lying down in a...a bed. Its called a bed. There are patches of black and grey, like on the TV in the corner (that stands for television, I remind myself) and this...some sort of machine that appears to be attached to me. But for the most part the room is a harsh bleached color.

It's a sort of hospital, I decide. A hospital.

For the first time I notice my sense of hearing, and I focus my attention on my ears. There's a soft beeping coming from the machine next to me. The roof is vibrating with what must be the air-conditioning. And from a door I hadn't noticed before, there is hushed whispering.

So there are other people in this world.

I lean forward and catch "…gotta just let me see him." The voice is loud and sort of obnoxious. For some reason it strikes a chord in my mind. There's something about the voice that's familiar…but at the same time it means nothing to me.

"I'm sorry, but you really shouldn't. This time is crucial for his recovery, and I don't want you…upsetting it. Besides, you've been in twice already today…"

This voice is fainter, more nervous sounding.

"He'll recover faster if I help him, I swear, I know him better than anyone." The louder voice. Are they talking about me? Does this stranger know me?

There is a slight a creak and the sound of air being misplaced and the door opens, revealing two men. The smaller one, a thin, petite man, is in scrubs, so I assume him to be a doctor or nurse or some person along those lines.

The other has his back to me. He's taller, and thicker, and his canary-colored hair sticks straight up from his forehead and is really defying gravity. He's the one who opened the door and now he's turning towards me, assuring the doctor "If anyone can make him better, I - " He turns towards me.

Our eyes meet.

Deep, shining cobalt that makes me feel like I've been electrified.

Yes, I've known those eyes. But how?

But before I can examine him any further, his entire face lights up in pure ecstasy and at the same time he looks like he's about to cry.

And he leaps at me.

"Lukas! Oh my God Lukas, I was so worried, you have no idea how worried I was, oh my God, you're okay now, it's okay, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay. God Lukas, God, I missed you so much, I was so worried…" He says it all with his arms thrown around me, head practically buried in my shoulder and half sobbing at me.

I don't know who he is and right now his closeness is making me really agitated, so as best as I can from my position on the bed I shove him off of me.

I'm not quite strong enough, but he gets what I mean and pulls away. He looks surprised and a little hurt.

By now the doctor's registered the fact that I'm awake and is rushing towards me, looking flustered. "You're aggravating the situation, you really need to leave," he huffs to my blonde assailant, who's still sitting on my bed with a slightly dumbstruck expression. "You don't want him in here, do you?"

He's looking at me as he says it. I glance again at the man in my bed. There's something about him that I can't place…While I'd love to contemplate just what his connection is to me, he's irritating me. So I turned my head slowly once to the left, once to the right, the universal gesture of negation.

Now the blonde looks shocked, like I've just smacked him. Please just leave, I think.

We hold each other's gazes for a few more moments - his hurt and mine expressionless - and then he slowly stands and walks out. The door is shut with a bit more force than necessary.

"Now then," the doctor says, "do you feel okay, Lukas?"

Lukas.

Is that me? The name seems to hold something, but at the same time it's meaningless. I mull it over in my head until it just sounds like mush to me.

He takes my silence the wrong way. "Can you speak?"

I look at him for a few moments. Can I? "Yes," I finally decide, and I'm surprised at the sound of my voice. It's a bit scratchy from disuse, but it has a rounded softness to it. I like it.

"Do you know who that man was?"

By that man he must mean the blonde. Do I?

"No," I tell him, a little uncertainly. If I know the man, I'm not aware of it.

He pales visibly. "I see. Can you tell me anything about yourself?"

Myself? I reach into the depths of my brain, where that information should be, but all I find is a blank slate. That's unsettling. Who am I?

"I can't."


	4. Chapter 4

To the common person, Lukas seems unreadable. It's understandable. I had the same misconception when I was just getting to know him, as a little kid.

But when you know him long enough, like I have, his emotions get a lot easier to comprehend. The tilt of his head shows his amusement, the knitting of his eyebrows tells you how pissed he is, and a few wrinkles around his eyes betrays the fact that internally, he's beaming. And I have always prided myself in being not only one of the few people who can read him so well, but also one of the few people who can inspire so much emotion in him.

But, when I walk into his hospital room, he is literally expressionless, as if someone has wiped his face clean.

He hasn't looked at me like that in years. I mean, at the very least I expect a look of mild irritation - I'm used to that. But when he looks at me, there's nothing in his eyes. At first I ignore it, and I throw myself at him, but even then his eyes only narrow in slight annoyance. Not even annoyance at me. Annoyance at the noise probably, and maybe at my proximity. But not in reaction to _me_. The moment I see him I know that the thought of me holds nothing for him.

That looks makes my heart shatter. And it hurts when he tells me to leave. It hurts really bad.

I'm demoted to the hospital hallway. And there's this little door separating us, but never have I felt less close to Lukas.

Now that Lukas is conscious and recovering (sort of), I'm a tad worried that the doctors will stop looking to me as the main caretaker and stop telling me things, so I have no choice (no choice!) but to eavesdrop at the door if his room. I hear the doctor ask if Lukas knows anything about himself, and I hear Lukas reply uncertainly that he can't.

What?

That's never happened before. Even back when he had his memory lapses they were short term and only affected the past few hours. He can't remember _anything_?

My heart speeds up. As soon as the poor doctor leaves the room I stop him.

"What's - "

He shakes his head. "We have no idea what happened. There isn't anything to indicate as to why he would have lost his memory." Ah, so he knows I've been listening. "Until we run some tests, we're just as in the dark about this as you are."

Well, I suppose that's all I can ask from the man. "You'll run those tests soon, right? And you'll let me know as soon as you get any information?"

He gives me a shaky smile. "Yes, of course. You're still his husband after all."

His husband. Half of me swells with pride at the title. But the other half wilts as I remember Lukas's blank expression.

"Don't…Don't tell him we're married."

The doctor (I really should learn his name) looks up from the papers he's been sifting through and gives me a concerned look.

Before he can say anything a begin to babble, "I mean, I don't want to confuse him and make him feel like he has to like me even if he doesn't and I don't want to force myself on him even though I probably will and hopefully it will all just go away and he'll just - "

"Okay, okay," he says a tad forcefully. "So, what should I tell him?"

"Tell him we're just good friends. Roommates, I guess."

He nods. He looks a bit unsure but it looks like he's going to go along with me. "Back when he was in the emergency room we took off his wedding ring. Do you want to hold on to it now?"

I tell him I do, and then I let him go and tend to other patients.

What did I just do?

For the first time in weeks I'm home for more than a few minutes. I've been here for hours, getting it ready for when Lukas comes back.

The pictures of us are in a box in the attic. I move all my clothes into the closet in the guest room and make the bed in the master bedroom for one person instead of two. Anything that can indicate a more than friendly relationship is hidden or thrown away.

While cleaning I come across something on his bedside table - the cross-shaped hairpin he always wears. I consider for a moment giving it to him, but as it turns out I'm too selfish. Instead I tuck it away in the top drawer of my new bedside table with Lukas's ring, so I'll be able to look at them when he isn't there.

Looking at the house, you wouldn't know that we're in love.

This is ridiculous. Why am I going to all this trouble? Lukas will probably get his memory back tomorrow and it will all have been pointless.

I remember again those empty eyes.

Maybe he won't get his memory back…? No, I can't think that. Optimism. Optimism is always key. Lukas is going to get his memory and we'll be as happy as we've ever been.

Yeah. Right.

Back at the hospital, I'm standing outside of Lukas's door.

Okay, I can do this.

I tell myself for the five hundredth time.

Inhaling quickly, I tap out a soft knock on the door. After a few moments is Lukas's untrusting "Come in…"

I do, pushing the door open with perhaps unnecessary softness. Lukas is sitting up in bed with a book propped up on his lap. When he looks up and sees who am, he sighs and rolls his eyes, looking back down at the book. "Oh. You."

I laugh nervously. "Yep! Guess you weren't expecting that!" I grin at him.

He reads.

"So, uh…" I pull up a chair next to his bed. He doesn't react. Must be an interesting book.

"I never really got to introduce myself that other time." Ugh, that sounds weird. This man knows me better than anyone in the world. I shouldn't have to reintroduce myself if we've known each other since we were diapers.

"You didn't." He's still reading.

"Well," I say, stretching a smile onto my face. "My name is Matthias Kohler."

Finally he marks his place - with agonizing sluggishness - and looks up at me. "I'm Lukas Bondevik. But I guess you know that."

I nod. "Yeah."

He studies me for a moment, and I keep quiet.

"How?"

I think for a moment before deciding my answer. "Well…we've known each other since we were really young. We always were best friends. Now we live together."

One eyebrow arches slightly. "Do we?"

I nod reluctantly. "Yeah, we're…we're roommates."

He bobs his head slightly. He believes me. "So I'll have to live with you after I get out of here?"

"Yeah…" I scratch my head. "Should be fun, right?"

I offer him a grin. He just looks at me.

"Don't I have any family I could live with?"

Ouch. Well. "Just your brother. Emil. You parents were in an accident when you were a teenager…you never really liked talking about it. But that's when you and your brother moved in with me. Then he moved out when he grew up and you…didn't."

He shrugs when I mention his parents. "It's not like I remember them anyways. Why didn't I move out?"

_Because we got married._ "Uh, we were close and decided it would be nice to save the money you could've spent buying yourself a house. It seemed smart."

"Hm." He's noncommittal. "Do you want anything else?"

"Uh…No, I guess not."

His eyes slide away from mine. Now he's gazing past me to the corner of the hospital room. "Then leave, please."

I feel myself flinch slightly. "Okay," I tell him, and look at him for another moment before pushing my chair back from the bed.

"Matthias?"

I stop and turn around to him. He's still staring blankly past me at the wall, and I'm suddenly reminded of the morning I found him unconscious in bed.

"Yes?"

"Take care of me."

He's still deadpan, but I see his eyes lower a fraction.

Ah. There's Lukas. I feel myself nearly melting at his words, and right now I want nothing more than to _kiss_ him, damn it.

"I will," I promise.

**A/N: Sorry for the confusion! It appears i re-uploaded chapter two instead of this one...Thanks to all the reviewers who let me know I had the wrong chapter up :)**


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